


Even as a shadow, even as a dream

by vigilantejam



Series: little ones [3]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Cock Warming, Drug Use, Ficlet, Incest, M/M, Mythology References, Oral Sex, sort of??? look it's the greeks it's fine relax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vigilantejam/pseuds/vigilantejam
Summary: sleep and his half-brother death- john william waterhouse (1874)and thanks tororret, as ever
Relationships: Charles Frederick Des Voeux/Henry T. D. Le Vesconte
Series: little ones [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026700
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6
Collections: @terror_exe Prompt Fills





	Even as a shadow, even as a dream

Night has fallen, and in the cabin, a space immeasurable and infinite, the air is warm and thick. All light is snuffed to darkness as it crosses the threshold so as to look like a black cloud hangs inside the room. There is the scent of poppy and jasmine, and it washes calm over Charles as he closes the door behind him. It is good to be here, in the belly of Erebus, and away from the creaking and clamouring, the bursting brightness of the rest of the ship.

“Brother,” he says and no sound comes out, but he knows that Henry hears him all the same. Just as there is no music playing but a lullaby kisses his brow. Just as there is no lamp to see by and yet Charles can make out Henry’s features and frame by heart.

“Come,” Henry says and Charles climbs into the bunk. He fits into the crook of Henry’s shoulder and curls along his side.

“What’s this?” Henry touches his thumb to the corner of Charles’ mouth and it comes away with a shine of blood.

“’S not mine,” Charles says, licking the rest from his teeth.

The pipe is placed to Charles’ lips and he takes a long draw on the opium. In the billow of smoke are memories. China, Italy, London. Wherever they are together, in tandem, they come as one. On the ocean, on the ice. But most of all there’s home. By the river. Charles feels his arms and eyes becoming leaden.

“Isn’t that good?” Henry asks. “Come, love.”

Henry takes Charles by the wrist and moves his hand down between his legs. Charles strokes what he finds there, Henry’s cock soft and pouchy with sleep and the poppy. Charles slips down and Henry’s hand instead rests in his hair, guiding him. 

“Just a little death.”

“Must you say that every time?”

Henry chuckles somewhere far away and falling farther.

The warm weight of his cock lolls on Charles’ tongue and Charles holds him gently, his nostrils tingling with smoke and iron. Charles sucks and slides but Henry is not for waking, not now and not here. Best to only let him be, and stay snug against him as his eyes close and his fingers comb through Charles’ hair.

“You’re cold,” Henry falls still.

“I am nothing.”

The smoke dissipates and takes with it the cannon fire, the long afternoons sea-swimming, the bawdy houses and dens. There is nothing. Nothing but Erebus and Henry, the dark and sleep.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> [_sleep and his half-brother death_ \- john william waterhouse (1874)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_and_his_Half-brother_Death)
> 
> and thanks to [rorret](https://twitter.com/terror_exe/status/1283464360178876418), as ever


End file.
